


When twenty is too many, yet not enough

by YaellNovella



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaellNovella/pseuds/YaellNovella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil, CEO of Eryn Lasgalen, has an important meeting to attend to. Yet, he has a few too many cats according to some. Cats that need a babysit he can't find. Instead, he decided to secretly take them to the hotel - it's only two days after all, what's the harm in that? Bard Bowman, owner of Laketown, a small shop that sells equipment for sailing and the like, takes his family with on a celebration trip after having received great news. When all hell breaks loose in the Isen Gard Hotel, Thranduil and Bard inevitably have to join one another to restore order and peace...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Furry f(r)iends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicalmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalmagic/gifts).



Forty-three he had. This was the last of them. The soft meowing from the cat carrier box announced that his babies knew perfectly well they were about to be driven somewhere, and they hated going in the car. He stacked the final box on top of the others, glad that his car was so big. He made sure the boxes were secured, so none of his sweetlings would be tossed about on the road there. With a final sigh, he shut the trunk close, wishing his son would’ve stayed, but no.

Thranduil had asked Legolas on several occasions to cancel his plans for the weekend, but Legolas had insisted on the importance of this contest, and, if truth be told, he really didn’t want to look like he was chickening out. His nemesis, Kili, was one of the archers of the other team, and he refused to lose to him, and Tauriel had sprained her wrist while training – the only reason his father let him go in the end.

He tugged his hair to the back and tied it into a ponytail, before loading his heavy trunk on the front seat next to him. Usually he’d have taken his Lexus to drive this kind of distance, but the trunk of that car wasn’t really big enough. He took a short glance over his shoulder, verifying if they were safe enough, and got in.

It was only two hours driving, but considering the meeting was taking place in the evening, Elrond had insisted on staying the night in the hotel, where the meeting would be taking place anyway. Thranduil couldn’t really object, but it had been too difficult to find someone who could take care of his cats, and he couldn’t possibly leave them without food for two days straight. So he’d loaded them in his trunk, together with a dozen litter boxes, and drove them to the famed Isen Gard Hotel.

He knew it was a risk, for last time, when he’d driven there and taken his cats – yes, this wasn’t the first time something like that happened – he’d heard the owner, Saruman White, scold chief of staff Mr. Lurtz, for letting a dog on the perimeter. Now, dogs and cats weren’t the same, but it appeared this man hated all kinds of animals. He’d have to make sure his sweetlings stayed in his room at all times. And he’d have to bribe some of the cleaning staff to transport them upstairs, unseen.

 

* * *

 

The car pulled over onto the driveway. The blinded windows didn’t really give away what was loaded in his trunk, and Thranduil was glad he’d bought that type of car during his time when he was paranoid about being spied upon, after his son had appeared in the newspapers once too much with his friend Haldir. Gossip had spread, just like it had when Legolas was seen publicly with Arwen, her adopted brother and Tauriel. So many silly rumours had mad been making their rounds, none of them true, but all of them which bothered Thranduil, and he wasn’t keen on letting it happen another time.

With the right sum of money, Gríma and Alfrid, the groundskeepers’ aid, could be convinced to help with the unseen transportation of the carrier boxes, each one softly meowing in protest. Thranduil was glad he’d arrived more or less during dinner time, for while he was checking in, and his cats were being brought to his room, everyone else was in the restaurant. By the time they returned to their rooms to refresh, Thranduil’s companions were al settled.

“Come, I’ll let you out now”, he said, as he squatted in front of one of the carrier boxes, which contained Galion, a fluffy brown cat that loved his special cat milk like no other. He opened the door and let the cat walk out, strutting as posh as they were, and Thranduil loved them for it. He stroked his fingers through the thick, brown fur, and started releasing them one by one.

“Okay sweetlings, I’m going to take a quick shower before I’m off to the meeting”, he indicated, as if the cats could understand. Oropher rubbed himself across Thranduil’s long legs as he was stripping bare. He threw his clothes on the bed, and took a suit out of his suitcase, hanging it up. Amdír jumped onto the windowsill as the water tap was opened, deciding he too needed a wash. The raspy tongue ran over the fluffy front paw.

Not too long after, Thranduil left the room, making sure it was properly locked. None should find out about his hoard of cats. He fixed his dark, emerald green tie and walked towards the elevator. A scruffy man walked out just as Thranduil wanted to step in, and he couldn’t help but wonder how such a man had gotten the money to pay for a stay at the hotel.

He brushed it off rather quickly, however, it didn’t matter much to him. Thranduil walked into the lift, and as he turned around, he saw how the doors were closing and the scruffy weird one was searching in his pockets for the key-card. He couldn’t care less about such a pathetic, poor fellow, not on this evening, when the biggest agreement yet was waiting for them. Three of the biggest companies ever were about to sign a contract that would secure their future. Especially for Thranduil it was important, for Galadriel, the chief of Lothlórien Flower Dreams, a company specialized landscape architecture, was the mother-in-law of Elrond, who owned the Imladris Architectural Bureau, a company specialized in environment-friendly design.

Today, they’d be welcoming a third party to their already established revenue, Eryn Lasgalen, Thranduil’s own company, which he’d inherited from his father. His company specialized in preservation of nature reserves and wildlife. He bought and sold or rented large plots of forests, where protected species lived, under special contracts that secured the preservation of wildlife and trees. He was also one of the chief investors in the preservation of the rainforest in Brazil.

And now, the future promised that his investments would be paying off even more, if he’d manage to get both Elrond and Galadriel on board. A new era was dawning for mother nature, as the three leading companies joined hands. A faint smile danced on his lips as he walked into the conference room. Today was going well. Nothing and nobody would be able to wipe that smile of his face. Or so he thought.


	2. Sweetlings on the loose

Bard softly groaned as he was rummaging through his pockets. Why was he a walking mess? He would cuss softly if it weren’t for the posh blond dude that walked past him. Just the appearance of that man made him freeze up slightly. He was taller, and dressed in a pitch black suit, the type of black you’d see anything on, but there was nothing to be seen, not even a tiny white plush.

Those kind of people you didn’t see every day, especially not when you were on a holiday. The worst thing was, Bard knew who that man was, and he suspected the man knew him. Recently, this man had agreed to a serious investment in Laketown, Bard’s own small company, and to celebrate that, Bard had planned a vacation with his three children. But now that man was here too, and he’d see the old coat, the scruffy boots, the messy hair and the unshaven chin.

Not that Thranduil made any kind of remark, but just the other’s appearance, his blatant ignoring of Bard’s existence, as if he didn’t recognize him, while Bard was fairly certain he did, had made the scruffy brunet quite nervous. He was trembling while he took the key card out of his jacket, and slid it into the door. A soft click sounded, and he pushed it open, sighing. How would he ever work his reputation back up? Wait. As he looked up, he realized this wasn’t his room, the number on the door didn’t seem right. So why did the card open up this door?

But much time to think about it, he didn’t get. Something on the other side was tugging open the door, and the knob slipped from Bard’s hands as about twenty cats came dashing out. “What the…” Bard exclaimed, his eyes widening slightly. “God fucking hell, pets aren’t allowed here”, he hissed between his teeth. He really should just let these cats go, and let the hotel staff work it out with the whomever stayed in that room, but as he took a second glance inside, he recognized those neatly placed boots as Thranduil’s own. Holy fucking hell, as if it couldn’t get any worse.

If Thranduil were to discover he’d let those cats escape, he could say goodbye to their great deal, and if the staff were to find out about the cats, Thranduil would probably find out about him. “Fuckity fuck”, Bard groaned, knocking on the door of the room where his two daughters remained. “Tilda, Sigrid”, he called out. “Get Bain and ask him to come here, and bring any cat you find on your way.”  
He went inside the bedroom and spotted the stacked cat carrier boxes. With a quick count, he came to the conclusion there were about forty-three. Forty-three fucking cats! He counted the ones that were still in the room, picked them up and locked each of them in one of the carrier boxes, making sure they wouldn’t escape. By the time his three children had come, with the cats they’d encountered on the way there, there were about twenty-three of the cats put in the right box – they each wore a collar, and each box was marked with a name card. How fucking posh.

Bard briefly explained the situation to his children, ordering them to each try and bring back five cats, no matter the cost, but make sure the staff didn’t see them, or didn’t link them to either Thranduil or them – it’d be a shame if either of them were to be found out as having cats, because they’d definitely be banned from the hotel… Perhaps forever, even.

A shiver ran down Bard’s spine thinking of such humiliation, and even worse, he’d hate to be the one to cause something like that to happen to someone like Thranduil. His name would be dragged by the paparazzi, most likely.

 

* * *

 

The four of them each decided to try and bring five of the cats back to the bedroom. If they did, all cats had been retrieved, and they could quietly lock the door and pretend nothing had happened. Unfortunately, it was the fastest of cats that had escaped, and they were the least eager to let themselves be caught again. Bard just hoped they wouldn’t be too troublesome, worried about his children’s hands and face getting covered in many scratches and bites. He didn’t like the thought one bit.  
But a silvery white ball of fur distracted him from those thoughts. One of the cats tauntingly jogged through the centre. “Puss, puss”, Bard called out, which made the cat stop. Its tail was risen high in the air, and gorgeous blue eyes stared back at him. “Yes, come here, kitty, kitty”, Bard tried to lure the cat, lowering his upper body as he closed in on the animal.

As soon as he got too close, according to the cat, the creature darted off however, and Bard was left cussing loudly. “Stupid fuck cat”, he hissed between his teeth as he started pursuing the creature. Luckily for him, it turned out that the cat had run towards a dead end. He slipped out of his coat, spread it open in front of him and walked slowly towards the white cat.

With a large jump, he caught the cat underneath, and quickly he wrapped it up within the coat, before turning around and triumphantly returning to Thranduil’s room. A ‘ding’ behind him announced the lift had reached the floor they were on. In a reflex, he turned around to check who it was, hiding the coat behind his back.

Thranduil walked out of the lift, not yet having spotted Bard, and the other took a few steps back, trying to remain out of sight. But instead, he realized he was walking into Thranduil’s room. Fuck, he thought, quickly scanning the room for a place to hide, but it was already too late. The tall blond man stood in front of him, looking right at him with a brief frown.

“Who are you, how did you get in here and why are you…” But Thranduil’s stern, collected voice died down when he slowly realized how empty his room looked. Meowing was heard from the wall where the carrier boxes stood stacked upon one another. “What…” he started, passing by Bard, who still held the wriggling coat, as he dashed towards the boxes. “Where are the others?” he asked Bard then, furiously turning his gaze towards him, his brows furrowed.

“Eh, one’s here”, Bard said, reaching out his coat hesitantly. “The others… I don’t know, really.” Thranduil picked the cat out of the coat and immediately placed it in the right carrier box, without having to look at the collar or the name tag on the box. Only then Bard started realizing Thranduil had no idea who he was, and he felt slightly relieved. Slightly, but not much.

“How did they get out?” Thranduil asked as he got up once again. “Eh…” Bard started, but the stern gaze forced him to admit. “Apparently the key card to my bedroom worked on yours”, he confessed. “It was an honest mistake, I swear”, he quickly rushed to say, but it appeared Thranduil wasn’t interested in hearing that.

“You let them escape”, he said, stepping closer and dangerously invading Bard’s personal space. “You help me get them back, if you value your life.” Bard nervously swallowed. A man of such importance could make or break his entire life, especially if he found out it was him who’d been the one to help Bard’s shop so much that taking away that support would mean bankruptcy and probably factory work for the poor scruffy man.

“Aye, sir”, Bard meekly replied, quite intimidated, but also feeling responsible for what had happened. This seemed to please the other, and Thranduil calmed down slightly. He walked over to his suitcase and took out a small container, which seemed to have been ointment, but as he moved, a rattling noise came from it. “Cat treats”, Thranduil declared. “We’ll get some of them in no-time with these.” He knew his cats.


	3. Caught a cat

Thranduil held Oropher between his long, thin fingers. It had taken them approximately three hours, half a box of cat treats, seven bribes, twenty-seven scratches on Bard’s hands and thirteen claw marks on Thranduil’s skin to get all cats back in Thranduil’s room. Oropher was the last one, and while Thranduil shoved him back in the cat carrier box, he endearingly called him a ‘troublemaker’.

Bard glanced over at Thranduil and let out a relieved sigh. “That’s the last of them, yes?” he verified. “So I can go now, yes?” he then asked. He wanted to get out of there before the other one decided to strangle him to death for releasing the cats in the first place. He was already at the door when Thranduil replied with a simple ‘no’.

Bard stopped in the middle of his movement and turned around to face Thranduil once again, his eyes scanning the tall figure. “You said your name is…?” Thranduil started. Bard dropped his chin to his chest, and murmured: “Bard Bowman…” He’d hoped Thranduil would’ve forgotten about his name, but it appeared his memory was quite something. Except for Bard’s face, he’d forgotten about that. And hopefully, his name wouldn’t ring a bell.

“Ah, the owner of Laketown”, Thranduil’s voice mused gently, as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I hadn’t recognized you”, he stated, sounding only partially apologetic. “Last time I saw you, you appeared much… less… interesting.” Bard could swear Thranduil was mocking him right where he stood, and while he knew what depended on the man, this he couldn’t take.

“Listen, Lucius Malfoy”, he started. “It’s not because I won a company I have to be a posh rich twit like you are.” But as soon as he’d said that, he realized the corners of Thranduil’s lips curled upwards, bemused by the other’s words. Shit, Bard thought to himself, and he wanted to punch his own face. This was worse than calling your boss names.

“Is that so”, Thranduil quietly asked. He walked closer to Bard, who took a step back until he felt the wall press into his back. He glanced at Thranduil, but realized the other had passed him by to close the door properly behind them. And locked it. What the hell was he up to? “I wasn’t mocking you”, Thranduil stated as he walked back into the room. He loosened up his tie and tossed it at the bed.  
“Please, feel free to take a shower”, Thranduil stated, gesturing at the bathroom door. Bard must’ve looked quite confused, for Thranduil added: “Those scratches aren’t going to clean themselves, and the cat that peed on you was a male. You know how they smell harder than females. I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your own room.”

Bard finally gave in after that, and quickly went to take a shower. When he got out, clothed in naught but a towel that was wrapped around his waist, he stepped into the room again. Thranduil had changed clothes as well. He was now buttoning a white shirt, but left a few of the buttons on top open still. He made a nod at the bed with his chin, indicating that Bard’s fresh clothes were waiting for him there.

“Care to join me for a drink when you’re ready?” Thranduil asked, his greyish blue eyes lingering on Bard’s figure as he was bent over to pick up the stack of clothes. “Eh”, Bard stammered, not having expected such a blunt invitation. Was he hitting on him? “As a thanks for retrieving my cats, and not letting them get caught by staff”, Thranduil elaborated. Okay, he wasn’t hitting on him. “Yeah, sure, why not”, Bard replied, a little bit confused and slightly embarrassed for thinking Thranduil was flirtatious with him. Why would a man like that fall for something as shabby as him?

Thranduil sat down on the armchair, waiting for Bard. His long fingers stroked the velvet of the armrest, as he supported his chin on his hand. He found his gaze focused at the door, where the brunet was getting ready. It was a nimble man; he’d shown in their hunt for cats. Where Thranduil used his wits to lure them out, Bard used his stealth to sneak up on them, and sneaking up on cats was a hard task.

They seemed to have more in common than Thranduil had thought at first when they met during their meeting. Then, Bard had been dressed up in a suit, clean shaved and his hair in a ponytail. He’d looked like shit. But now, wild, free, unshaven and shabby… Now he looked fine. A smile lingered on the lips of the other as Bard finally came out, dressed up in not too clean but not too dirty an outfit.

“Good”, Thranduil decided. This outfit looked perfect on him. His keen eyes had perfectly chosen. “Let us go”, he suggested as he got up. Bard insisted on letting his children know first, and went to put them to bed. It was already late, after all. As Bard closed the door, he thought to himself he’d best not make it too late, but he had to pay attention not to insult Thranduil yet again. It had been a close call already.

Together, they walked to the lift, side by side. Thranduil held his silence, which only made Bard even more nervous. But nothing felt more uncomfortable than the trip down. “Are you a heavy drinker?” Thranduil asked, breaking the awkward silence so smoothly. “I mean, in type of drink”, he added, so not to make the question misunderstood, and not to imply Bard was a drunk. He didn’t strike as one, at least.

“I know how to hold my liquor”, Bard replied. “And personally I prefer the taste of sweeter, heavier spirits.” He glanced at Thranduil, not too sure what to say more than that. “You strike me as a wine type”, he suggested then, to which the stern one smiled yet again. “Indeed”, Thranduil admitted. “I prefer wines in the early evening, but at this hour, I too enjoy my liquor slightly heavier than that.”

This was quite unexpected to Bard, and he tried to imagine Thranduil completely wasted, but just couldn’t picture it. Perhaps he should try to get him that far, but then again, he still didn’t want to ruin his reputation. Maybe some other time, when they weren’t in public, he promised himself.


	4. Coated in Love

The bar was rather quiet, for most had already gone back to their rooms at this hour, which only indicated even more how late it was, Bard realized. Perhaps this wasn’t that good an idea after all. But as he took a glance at the man next to him, who was already placing their order – a martini with olive and one without – he didn’t feel like he could back out anymore. Not that he wanted to, if truth be told.

The bartender, a young handsome man named Lindir, placed the glasses on the counter. He figured these two would be sticking around for a while, and at least that would cheer up his evening a little. Standing around doing nothing sounded nice to get paid for, but it really wasn’t. He stole frequent glances at them, even though he stayed out of their earshot – he didn’t want to intrude.

“So, how’s the business going?” Thranduil politely inquired, opening up a conversation with Bard. Bard thought of it as the general small talk that was required in such a situation, but decided he couldn’t really object to playing along. “Well, it’s been the best since my wife died”, he indicated with a minor shrug. “She was a great help, and now I have to manage everything on my own. The investment came right on time, really. I managed to hire some staff.”

Thranduil slowly nodded, and Bard had the impression he was actually listening, perhaps even interested in what he had to say, instead of making mere conversation for the sake of it. This surprised him, to put it mildly. “Eh, how about yours?” he quickly asked, feeling like talking too much about him wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to let the man in on how shabby a lifestyle they had.

However, the other let out a mere sigh. “Same, it went a lot better when my wife still helped me out, though she was more of a… mediator.” When he noticed Bard’s confused glances, he clarified: “She stopped me from deciding things on impulse. She always called me hot-headed.” And yet he appeared so cool and collected.

“You don’t strike me as someone who lets emotions lead”, Bard carefully stated, which drew a smile on Thranduil’s gorgeous lips. “I don’t to the outside”, he admitted after a short silence. “But where I was the heart, she was the mind, indeed.” Bard softly chuckled. “Unexpected”, he declared then. “Though, for me and my wife, it was just the other way around.”

This silenced both of them for a while, and they each stared into the distance, drinking as time passed and their minds were with their pasts, remembering and reliving. Until Thranduil decided to break the silence again. “Say”, he started. “I had come here to make a deal, which I have. Perchance we could make another one?” This suggestion surely caught Bard’s attention, and he rose his gaze to meet Tranduil’s, a confused yet interested frown on his face. “What kind of?” he wanted to know.

Thranduil’s fingertips stroked the edge of the glass, and he stared at the liquor it contained for a while, before picking it up by the top and swirling the alcohol inside it a couple of times. “A fusion”, he finally stated. “I buy your company and expand upon it, and you become the mind to the heart, as I become the heart to your mind.”

Not only did this fluster Bard, for it was a strange way of phrasing an agreement to work together, but it also had him laugh. “Why would someone like you take an interest in someone like me?” he wanted to know. “There’s no way you’d…” But the blond one interrupted him. “It’s profitable for both of us.”

Of course, profit. It couldn’t be anything but that, now could it? The frown on Bard’s face returned. “I’ll consider it”, he stated, as he got up. “But I think it’s time for some sleep.” Thranduil too stood up, yet less abruptly and far less upset than the other. “Very well”, he agreed. “Let us go back upstairs.”

Bard didn’t look forward to sharing the lift with the mildly tipsy CEO, especially not when he was upset with him, upset that he’d look always on the cold, heartless side of things, while calling himself the ‘emotional one’. Bard thought it ironic that he was feeling emotional about it, while Thranduil judged him to be the ‘rational one’.

“Ah”, Thranduil suddenly broke the silence that lingered between them. “You left your coat in my room”, he remembered out loud. “You might want to pick it up before…” But bard interrupted him with a quick: “Yes, yes, I’ll come pick it up.” Thranduil briefly glanced to the side, wondering where that sudden snarky attitude had come from. However, he didn’t address it.

The soft ‘ding’ of the lift announced they had arrived on the floor their rooms were at, the eleventh floor – Thranduil’s favourite number, for it sounded like ‘elven’, which he thought funny. “We’re there”, Thranduil softly announced, but Bard’s grumpy “I quite got that already”, made him raise one of his well-set eyebrows. “Someone’s got an attitude”, he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Bard hadn’t heard it, however, and when Thranduil opened the door to his bedroom, Bard was slightly hesitant to follow inside all of a sudden. “I won’t bite”, Thranduil assured. “Hard”, he added with a snigger. Right, they had been drinking, Bard was suddenly reminded. He walked in, and as he picked up his coat, Thranduil was closing the door.

“You can…” Bard started as he walked over, but when Thranduil turned around, they almost slammed into one another. The long fingers gently lifted the brown, shabby coat from Bard’s arms, gracefully draping it over one of the chairs. “I can…” Thranduil coaxed the other. “I can what?” he wanted to know, his fingers softly brushed across the palm of Bard’s hand.

The brunet felt he was sweating, badly so, and he hesitantly glanced up at the taller one. “You can leave the door open…” he slowly said, but Thranduil’s soft laugh made him once again freeze up. “Are you sure about that?” Thranduil tenderly teased the other as he leant even closer. He had to bend over slightly to bring his face into proximity of Bard’s, which made his long locks fall over his shoulders.

“Not… very sure”, Bard stammered, feeling how his cheeks were heating up. Great, now he was blushing too. But as Thranduil’s fingers tangled together with his own, as those cool blue eyes were softly closing and the dark lashes formed a perfectly shaped curtain that shielded the soft moonlight that his eyes were from sight, Bard was becoming more and more sure that no, he didn’t want that door opened. And just when he was very much convinced, he found his lips to be stolen into a kiss that tasted like the first spring morning after a long, long winter.


	5. One Call Away

Bard softly groaned. The sunrays that announced morning were definitely the brightest, he judged as he looked at the window. He rolled over to look outside, but when he leant onto his elbow, he realized the window wasn’t… quite in the right place. And his legs felt heavy. He looked down, only to see the end of the bed being covered in what looked like twenty cats.

Slowly he turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes met the broad back, where the softest of blonde locks were resting on the mattress, and blending in with the spotless white of the sheets. Bard hesitantly swallowed, realizing that the previous night had been all but a dream. After that first kiss, many more had followed, and Bard had experienced the emotional, fickle side of the otherwise so stern man. He had finally realized why he’d mentioned needing a rational counterpart, and Bard came to understand why he was the rational one of the two.

He rolled over, and tenderly let his rough fingertips caress the spine of the other’s bare back. Thranduil had released all his cats before they tumbled between the sheets, just to get rid of the constant meowing, for it was a real mood-kill. Thranduil shivered slightly, before rolling over onto his back. He held his eyes closed for a bit, but when he opened them, Bard’s and his gaze met one another.

The blue of his eyes reminded Bard of the lake he grew up next to. He reached out to pull the blond hair back and reveal more of that face he held quite dear. Thranduil’s lips curled into smile. He could see how captivated Bard was, and it amused him, even though he more or less understood, for Bard too held that power over him, like he did over Bard.

The grey of Bard’s eyes reminded him of the skies when it was about to rain, rain that gave life to the soil. He enjoyed taking walks in such weather, barefoot and in a white shirt, until he was soaking wet, feeling the grass tickle at his feet, and leaning his head back to see the sky weep like a fresh widower, a feeling they both knew all too well.

“Good morning”, Thranduil greeted, slightly hoarse. Bard chuckled, not having expected to hear that kind of rasp. “That it is”, he muttered, his fingertips trailing over the other’s jawline. Thranduil rose his hand to Bard’s face, and his own fingers slid between the slightly curling dark brown hair of the other. There were streaks of grey in it already, he noticed.

Thranduil rose from the mattress, pushing up his body with his free hand, as he impulsively pressed their lips together. His leg rose slightly, and Bard found himself placing one hand on each side of the blond, his naked chest hovering over Thranduil’s as his back arched and he leant down into that kiss. Thranduil slowly sunk back down, capturing Bard to lay down on top of him.

Bard chuckled softly, all of a sudden. “That’s gonna be hard to explain”, he whispered, rolling over so he dropped down next to Thranduil again. “To your children?” Thranduil inquired. Bard nodded, and even though Thranduil hadn’t seen the movement, he received the answer from the silence. “Don’t worry about that, I’m okay with children”, Thranduil softly stated.

Now it was Bard’s second silence. “What do you mean?” he wanted to know, turning his gaze to meet that of the beautiful man. “Why, you think I tumble in my own bed with a strange man for a one-night-stand?” Thranduil groaned. “You must think lowly of me then.” He fell silent as well, slowly breathing. “Unless, of course…” he started, but Bard interrupted him with another kiss. “Of course not”, he assured him. “I wouldn’t… leave now.”

A faint, yet one of the sweetest smiles Bard had ever seen, appeared dancing on Thranduil’s lips. He got out of the bed then, and as he walked through the room, Bard found himself to be admiring the way he was walking, the blond hair falling so smoothly over his back, as if it had been already tended to, carefully brushed like it always looked, and it ended right above, yes, right above that perfectly rounded rear. Bard remembered how it had felt in his hands.

Thranduil picked up a pen and bent over, quickly writing down something on a card. “Here’s my private phone number”, he indicated. “As soon as you’re home, call me”, he said as he slipped it inside the pocket of Bard’s coat. “I intend to spoil you rotten.” He pressed their lips together, a final time for that day, and brushed his hand over Bard’s jaw. “I have to go home now”, he whispered, slowly closing his eyes as he averted his gaze.

“So do I”, Bard agreed. His smile had faded, but then again, Thranduil was just a call away from entering his life on a regular basis. And that made his smile return. This could, in fact, work. He too got up then, and quickly he got dressed. With a peck on Thranduil’s cheek, and a promise he would call, he was gone, out of sight and leaving Thranduil near the window of his bedroom, worried about how he would be getting his cats back into the car without the hotel staff noticing.

Another few bribes did the trick, he soon figured out, and within two hours, he was on his way back home. While he was driving, his phone rung. He felt his heart jump, but as he glanced at the display, he noticed it was Legolas. With a quick swipe, he picked up and turned on the speakers. “Yes?” he asked, trying to sound as stern as possible.

“I won the competition”, Legolas spoke, beaming with pride. “Good”, Thranduil spoke after a brief silence. And then another silence fell, before Thranduil spoke again. He’d remembered Bard’s kind smile, and realized that perhaps, showing a little more kindness wouldn’t be so bad. “You did well, son. I am proud of you.” Now it was Legolas’ turn to be quiet.

“Dad, did you get hit on the head?” Legolas tried joking the strange feeling away. “Not on the head”, Thranduil replied. “But I did get hit on.” Legolas wanted to know all about it, and for a change, Thranduil was talkative, giving away every detail – except for everything that happened after the first kiss. Legolas could imagine that on his own.

“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting him”, Legolas stated when his father’s story had been told. “But tonight I’m going out, there’s a celebration for my victory.” Thranduil thought it not to be an issue, and granted Legolas the permission to go.

 

* * *

 

He pulled over onto his driveway, the large mansion waiting for him. After having unloaded, fed, brushed and released the cats, Thranduil walked to the kitchen. It was evenfall already, but still not a single word from Bard. He doubted the brunet was as eager as he was. A rather solemn feeling washed over him as he pulled open the fridge and took out the bottle of white.

He poured himself a glass, and made his way to the living room. Oropher jumped onto his lap, purring quietly, as he ran his fingers through the thick fur. Thranduil was staring at the oaken coffee table for god knows how many minutes. His glass was almost empty when he finally reached out to put it down on the glass surface that protected the wood.

And then a familiar sound grasped his attention. The display of his phone lit up. An unknown number. Thranduil’s heart skipped a beat when he reached out for it and swiped the green phone. “Thranduil”, he dryly stated, though he knew his voice was trembling slightly. Silence. And then: “Bard here. It’s good to hear your voice again.”


End file.
